Where The Hope Is
by AlwaysSharp
Summary: AU. At the age of seven, Justin's parents abandoned him. At fifteen, he is taken in by Ben and Michael.
1. Prologue

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**Prologue**

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"What about this one?" Ben suggests, showing Michael the page in question.

Ben and Michael are examining a stack of papers, each listing the name, age, sex, background and recent photograph of a potential foster child. In his room, Hunter is perusing a stack of pages describing girls his age, despite having already been informed by Ben that there it would be best not to conduct an affair with his foster sister.

"Too young," Michael replies after a quick glance. "Lindsay and Melanie may be able to cope with little kids on a daily basis, but J.R. is enough for me, thank you very much."

Ben shrugs, returning to the choices.

"This kid looks okay," Michael remarks, indicating the page of a boy named Chris.

At the same time, Michael and Ben spot the words _has been known to socialize poorly with others, particularly other teenagers_.

They each turn to look at Hunter's door, hearing the low grunting that indicates he may have found a girl to his liking. "Next," Ben deadpans.

The process continues for another four hours, with Ben eventually giving up on it and starting dinner while Michael and Hunter look over the remaining pages together. "This girl's hot," Hunter says from time to time, and on each occasion, Michael wrinkles his nose and wonders how this poor, deprived kid went from hustler to hetero.

There is a knock at the door. Michael gestures for Hunter to get it, and he does. Brian walks in.

"Hello, Stepfords," comes Brian's signature drawl. "How goes it in the hellhouse?"

"Hi, Brian," Michael and Ben chorus.

Flicking his cigarette lighter on and off idly, Brian asks, "What are you kids doing?"

Before Michael can answer, Brian brushes past the table upon which there are stacks of foster kids. He snatches a page up and scans it.

"Looking at foster kids," Michael replies, trying to grab the page back from him.

Brian pushes Michael back. "So you'd be living with one of these brats?" he inquires, gesturing at the enormous pile of paper.

"Correct," Ben calls from the kitchen.

Brian straightens the paper in his hands. "Get this one."

"Excuse me?"

"Get. This. One." He waves the page in Michael's face.

Michael reclaims the paper and peruses it. "Why?" Suddenly realizing something, he blurts out, "Brian, you are _not _going to fuck our foster kid!"

Hunter shrugs. "Why not?"

Michael smacks the side of his son's head.

"I don't want to _fuck _him," Brian drawls. "I don't fuck _children_. However, I think you should get him for several reasons, not the least of which is that he and the littlest hustler would probably get along."

Vengefully, Hunter swings his foot into Brian's shin. "You said you'd stop calling me that, fucker."

Brian smirks. "So I did. Well." He takes a last glance at the page. "When do you have to choose by?"

"We don't," Ben answers. "We just have to call the agency whenever and tell them which kid we want, and since they've already done a background check on us, all we have to do is show up and get him or her."

Hunter inhales sharply. "The kid doesn't even have a say?"

"Nope," Brian drawls. "Children have no say in their own lives. This is America, not some undeveloped country on Mars."

Hunter raises an eyebrow, a trick he perfected after long hours of watching Brian do the same. "I think we should get him," he mutters.

Having relocated from the kitchen into the living room, Ben replies, "Me too." He pauses and reads the page more carefully. Aloud, he announces, "His name is Justin, he's about Hunter's age, with bio-parents unknown. And he's been moving from home to home since he was seven."

Brian winces.

"What do you say, Michael?" Hunter asks hopefully, in the tone one might use when pleading for a new pet.

Michael looks the page over. "You promise you won't come on to him or anything, Brian?"

Brian snorts. "I have enough things to come on, thank you very much, Mikey. Now, you gonna call the agency, or what?"


	2. Chapter One

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**Chapter One**

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After a long week of anticipating the new foster child, Ben, Michael, and Hunter get into the back seat of a taxi. Brian, who is so pissed at not being allowed to go with them that he is probably on his way to the foster center himself by now, so Michael rushes out, "Children's Home of Pittsburgh on Kentucky Avenue."

Once the cab is in motion, Hunter strains his neck back and rests his head as high up on the head cushion as it can go. "Remind me again why Brian couldn't come?"

"Because he'll see the kid tonight at his welcoming party," Ben answers wearily, having already said this about twenty-five times before. "Besides, he isn't going to be living with the kid, isn't he?"

Michael pipes up, "_The kid _is named Justin."

"That's a stupid name," Hunter remarks.

And Hunter thinks. If he had a real foster sibling, a real live-in best friend, what would he want him to say at this moment? Would he be sarcastic? _Not all of us have hustler names like you, __**James**_. Witty? _No stupider than "Hunter". _Dramatic? _Well, I kept the name my mom and dad gave me, unlike some of us_.

Definitely sarcastic. The other two are lame.

Michael sighs. "Look, Hunter, I just need you to – we just wanted to say – I think it's important that you – "

Ben lays a hand on his arm. "Would you like me to take over?" he suggests. At Michael's nod, Ben turns to Hunter, carefully choosing his next words. "Listen. If we are going to have another child living with us, it is important that you, at least in the beginning, are on your best behavior."

"No," Hunter interrupts.

"Let me finish," Ben says with a sigh. "We don't want to make him uncomfortable. That means not talking about dying, not talking about hustling, not _doing _either of the above, not bringing tricks home… I mean, you'll be sharing a room with him! You'll have to just come up with some ground rules for the two of you, and also for yourself."

Hunter looks pissed. "That's lying," he snaps. "I don't want him to think we're this perfectly conservative-with-some-homosexual-content-added-in family. As a family, you guys and me and Brian and all the other guys – we do stuff other families don't. And we have to deal with stuff other families don't. Most families don't have drugs and booze and gay clubs in their lifestyle. Or former hustlers, or HIV, or kids with, like, six parents, or anything. I think it's important that the kid – that _Justin _– knows that we aren't like those boring families. We're different. There's no point in lying and acting like we aren't."

Michael and Ben consider it for a moment.

"But what if our lifestyle makes him uncomfortable?" Michael asks.

Ben answers, his voice firm. "Then he isn't right for us. Hunter's right. We shouldn't lie, but we should help him adjust first. Let him know what he's in for. If he doesn't like it, he can go back to the center."

"So we see him, we get him in the car – probably Brian's, 'cause we know he'll show up at the center provided he's not out fucking someone at –" Michael checks his watch "– ten in the morning. Then what? We start lecturing him on safe sex and telling him to be in from Babylon before two or we take away his fake ID?"

Hunter brightens. "Can I have a fake ID too?"

"I'm being sarcastic," Michael informs him.

Ben looks out the window. "We're a block away," he announces, and glances through the divider at the driver. The meter reads five dollars and sixty cents. "We'll get out here," he says, handing the driver seven dollars. Michael swings his door open and exits, followed by Ben and Hunter.

"Justin," Hunter murmurs to himself. "How old is he?"

"He'll be sixteen soon," Ben replies. "Birthday unknown, but they gave him an approximate date of birth that they all consider his birthday."

Hunter whistles. "You really did your research." He pauses, then asks casually, "Is he gay?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Michael grumbles, annoyed at being left out of the Q and A.

"Well, he's somewhat hot…"

Ben groans. "Playing for both teams now, Hunter?"

"Only on special occasions," replies the former hustler playfully. "Such as – "

"Brian!" chorus Michael and Ben, sounding like teenagers exposing their friend's secret crush. "And now Justin," Ben continues mournfully. "Hunter, I'm warning you, if you make any advances towards this kid, it will not be tolerated. Tricks are fine. Girlfriends, boyfriends – they're all fine. But if everything goes well, Justin will be your _brother_. Not fine. Are we clear?"

Hunter rolls his eyes. "Jeez, no need to lecture me," he mumbles. Then, looking up, he sees an enormous, intimidating building before him. "Is this it?" he asks.

"Yep," replies Michael with a tiny bounce in his step. "This is cool. We're going to be dads. Again."

"For the third time, for you," Ben teases. "I guess that makes you three times as old as Brian."

A figure standing behind his sleek new car steps out and teases, "Yeah, Mikey, I guess it does."

Michael hisses softly. "What are you doing here?" he demands.

Brian shrugged. "Came to see the kid and drive you home, I guess. Thought the dads and the little boys should have some time to chat before the Welcoming Committee gets ahold of the newcomer. What's his name again?"

"Justin," chorus the three Novotny-Bruckners. "Does this make him an honorary ex-trick, since you forgot his name already?" Ben inquires sweetly.

Brian scoffs. "Please. I'm not into chicken." He gestures toward the door of the foster center. "Shall we?"

With great trepidation, the four men enter.


	3. Chapter Two

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**Chapter Two**

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A woman stands just behind the door. "Are you the Novotny-Bruckners?" she asks. At Ben's sharp nod, she greets them, "Hi. I'm Alison. I believe you and I spoke over the phone?"

"Yeah, that was me," says Ben. "About – "

"Justin. I remember." She turns around to face a boy – looking far younger than his fifteen years – standing nervously behind a desk. "Justin? Why don't you come out and meet your new family?"

The boy, his light blonde hair falling into his eyes, steps out as requested and looks them over. "Hi," he whispers.

"Hi," Ben replies. "I'm Ben, and this is my husband Michael and our son, Hunter."

Justin's eyes immediately flit over the three as he glances up at Brian.

Hunter bites his lip to keep from snickering.

"This is a family friend. Brian." Michael is speaking through gritted teeth.

Justin nods. "Nice to meet you," he says quietly. Robotically, as though trained, he extends an arm to Ben, who shakes his hand politely, albeit rather bewilderedly. Justin then repeats the gesture to Michael, Hunter, and finally Brian, whose hand he holds for slightly longer than necessary, and whose gaze he does not release even then.

"Well, if you two can just sign here and here," says Alison brightly, "then you're free to go." She hands Ben and Michael a sheet of paper with several flagged lines for signatures. As they approach, Justin takes a tiny step away from Hunter and Brian, as though afraid that with Ben and Michael two feet away, he'll be attacked.

But when Ben and Michael return, Justin looks no less nervous. He follows them, Hunter, and Brian to the latter's car, asking quietly before the doors open, "Where should I sit?"

"Anywhere you like," Ben tells him. "Front, back, wherever." Then he teases, "Just not in the driver's seat."

Michael fakes a laugh, because he thinks the situation calls for it. Justin does not.

When Brian slides into the driver's seat, Justin immediately opens the passenger door and slips in beside him. Brian, glancing at him, is suddenly aware of how skinny the boy is. Justin only takes up half the seat, if that. Then Brian shakes his head to clear it. Now is not the time to be thinking like Debbie.

"So where's the party, Mikey?" Brian calls into the back. "Your place or Deb's?"

"Mine," Michael replies.

"Deb?" echoes Justin.

Hunter snorts. "Granny."

"My mother," Michael explains. "You'll meet her and a few of our friends tonight. We're having a party."

Justin's eyes glaze over, evidently remembering something. He trembles just a bit, and Brian pretends not to notice when the boy wraps his hand around his seat belt and squeezes, his knuckles whitening. "What kind of party?" Justin asks, his voice trembling just a bit. He's expecting something. Something bad. Brian knows that much. He just doesn't know what it is Justin's expecting.

"Oh, just a little friendly get-together," Michael replies offhandedly. "Our friends wanted to meet you, but we didn't want to overwhelm you by bringing them all to greet you at the foster center. So we decided on a little meet-and-greet."

Justin cringes. Brian notices. "How many people will be there?" the teenager asks nervously.

Michael considers and begins to count aloud. "Callie, Lindsay, Melanie, Gus, J.R.," he murmurs to himself. "Emmett, Ted, Blake, the five of us, Mom, Horvath… damn, there's a lot of us." He grins. "Fourteen people. Or thirteen, if you're counting Gus and J.R. as halves."

"That's a lot," Justin murmurs to himself. "Who is everyone?"

Hunter grins. "This could take a while. Well, Callie's my girlfriend."

Taken aback, Justin glances back at Hunter, then at Brian. "Oh. I thought you – I thought you and him were – I mean – "

Brian bursts out laughing, just barely managing to keep his attention on the road. "No fucking way."

"I'm sorry," Justin mumbles. "Are you even – "

"Are you?" Brian retorts. "I am. Ask anyone in the entire city, they'll tell you."

Justin still isn't convinced. "Um – if I was – would you – would I have to leave?"

"Fuck, no!" Hunter exclaims. "Michael and Ben are, Brian is, and pretty much all our friends are. Me, I'm both."

His foster brother, at least for now, shifts uncomfortably. "I… I am."

"Cool," says Hunter, and that's that for a few minutes, until at last Brian parks the car just outside the Novotny-Bruckner driveway.

"Well," says Ben, "you asked who everyone is. Now you'll get to meet them." 

Justin smoothes down his poorly-fitting jeans. He glances at his ragged white tee-shirt, which at one point had words on it, but they faded over time. His shoes have holes in them, he doesn't have any socks, and his hair hasn't been cut professionally in years. His last haircut was administered very poorly by one of his roommates back at the foster center. His name is Ethan Gold, and he had taken it upon himself to hack at Justin's hair with safety scissors until Justin looked suitably ragged.

"They won't like me," Justin whispers to himself. "They won't."

Brian, overhearing, cackles. "Then you and I will be in the same boat."

Maybe it's just Justin, but he personally can't think of anything better than being in the same boat as this gorgeous man. Not that he would ever say so, of course.


	4. Chapter Three

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**Chapter Three**

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Michael opens the door. He is the first one to enter, with Ben hot on his heels. Hunter follows, then Brian, and a very nervous Justin brings up the rear.

When Justin enters, the first thing he notices is that there are what seem like a million people there. Then he remembers that there are only fifteen, counting himself, and he feels a little better.

A moment later, a woman's arms are around him, pulling him in a too-tight hug. He steps back, caught by surprise, and can only think that he hopes he isn't percieved as rude. That wouldn't be a good way to meet these new people.

"Guys," says Michael brightly, "this is Justin."

The boy is suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on him. "Hi," he says softly, raising a single hand as if to wave.

Slowly, everyone around Justin begins to recite their names. His head swivels around as he tries to take in all the names and faces until at last, Brian takes pity on him and jerks a thumb at pair of women. "That's Lindsay and Melanie," he explains. "They're dykes. See the kid the blond one's holding? That's Gus, and he's my son, 'cause I donated a little something special. The woman holding him is his bio-mom, Lindsay. Next to her's Melanie, who's holding Jenny. Mikey gave the sperm for that one. Got it so far?"

A little taken aback, Justin nods his head. "Melanie, Lindsay, Gus, Jenny," he recites quietly.

"Good. Fast learner." Without thinking, Brian musses Justin's hair and proceeds. "That's Debbie," he says, indicating an older woman with a man on her arm. "Michael's mom, technically your foster grandma. Guy next to her's Horvath, her boyfriend. They'd be married, except Debbie's all gay-friendly and won't get married 'till we can do it legally."

Justin nods. "Okay. Debbie, Horvath. Not married."

Brian turns to where Hunter is standing with a girl pressed against his chest, kissing his neck. Justin recoils a little, and Brian laughs, noticing. "That's Hunter's girlfriend, Callie. He mentioned her in the car, but it figures you wouldn't remember, 'cause all you got out of that little discussion was the fact that he's bi and most of us are gay." At Justin's gobsmacked expression, Brian shrugs. "No problem with that."

"So this here," he continues, pointing to a group of three men standing together, "is Ted, Emmett, and Blake. Ted's the one who looks like he was a drug addict, 'cause he was, and he's also kind of pathetic." Brian smiles a winning smile. "Next to him's his boyfriend Blake, who was also on drugs but we don't mention that. And the other guy, the one who looks like he'd be more comfortable in drag, that's Emmett."

Taking it all in, Justin is silent.

"And that's everyone!" Brian sweeps an arm out, indicating the entire room. "Any questions?"

"Yes," he says quietly. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Debbie bursts out laughing. "This kid cuts right to the chase, huh? How old are you, sweetie?" she asks Justin more kindly.

"Fifteen."

Brian wrinkles his nose like this is a number he'd rather not have heard. "Come back in two years," he murmurs. Then he sees that Justin overheard, and looks a bit embarrassed. "Sorry."

"No – it's fine," Justin assures him, a tinge of pink appearing on his pale cheeks. "Really. Say whatever you want; I've heard it before."

"Is that good?" Hunter interjects, momentarily releasing himself from Callie's death grip.

Justin deliberates. Interesting question. "Maybe," he says.

Before anything else can be said, Lindsay approaches Justin, Gus in her arms. "Hi," she says brightly, extending Gus toward him like a peace offering. Melanie is hot on Lindsay's heels with Jenny clutching her neck for dear life. "Would you like to hold him?" Lindsay offers.

"Oh – I couldn't," Justin says, clearly upset with having to give this answer. "I'd drop him. I've never held a baby before…"

Gus squirms unhappily. "'M not a baby," he complains. "'M five whole years old." He holds up his palm, fingers outstretched, to demonstrate.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I know you're not," Justin apologizes, suddenly entranced by the child. "It's just, I've never held anyone so little before, and I don't want to drop you."

Just like that, Gus takes to him. "Mommy," he whines, "let him hold me."

"He likes you," Lindsay informs Justin. "He doesn't like everyone. Here." She holds him out to the boy.

Nervously, Justin takes him.

"Like this." Melanie demonstrates, shifting Jenny off of her shoulder and cradling the baby in her arms. Justin follows suit, holding the boy awkwardly in a position meant for infants half his age.

Gus looks into Justin's eyes, and Justin into his. The older boy then, seemingly out of nowhere, reaches out and strokes Gus' cheek. "You're so adorable," he cooes. "I've never seen anyone so little before – well, except for your sister."

Melanie and Lindsay are in shock. For someone who has never been in contact with babies before, Justin sure knows what he's doing. His treatment and gentle nature to Gus are evidence enough.

"How do you feel about babysitting?" Lindsay asks, watching the exchange.

From his corner that he is sharing with Callie, Hunter grins. "Yes!" he hisses. "Up 'till now, I've been the babysitting choice. Good luck, new kid."

Justin looks around awkwardly. "Sure," he says agreeably. "Do the four of you live with the children's fathers?" he asks after a moment's pause.

"Oh, _fuck _no," Melanie laughs. "No. Brian and I don't get along, and besides, there are just too many of us. And if we let them live with us, well, then Deb would move in, and Emmett and Ted and Blake, and it'd be madness. No, Lindsay and the kids and I live in Canada – we're just here for the next week – and Brian lives in his ritzy little loft on the other side of town."

Lindsay interjects, "But you'll be staying here. This is Michael and Ben's house – and Hunter's," she adds, catching sight of the look on the other boy's face, "and now it's yours, too."

"Oh," Justin says, clearly surprised. "Okay."

"Food's ready!" Debbie yells from the kitchen. "Come and get it!"

Justin returns Gus to his mothers and walks to the table slowly. By the time he gets there, the only one not yet seated is Horvath, who went outside to take an important phone call. The only empty seats are between Debbie and Emmett and between Brian and Hunter.

And Justin _knows _that Horvath will want to sit next to Debbie.

Cursing every step he takes, he is seated beside Brian. "Hey, kid," Brian says cheerfully. "Good luck keeping that figure. Deb'll stuff you 'till you pop."

Justin wriggles uncomfortably on his chair. "I don't have a figure," he points out. "I'm too skinny. People tell me that at the center all the time."

"Better too skinny than Lindsay when she's preggers," Brian remarks.

A smack to the side of Brian's head silences him for a moment, and then he turns inquisitively back to Justin. "So, kid," he says, still ignoring the fact that Justin has a name, "tell me your story. How'd you get to the foster center, what other homes have you been in, whatever. I'm in the mood for a story, and not one of Deb's stories about P-FLAG."

Justin quietly sets his fork down on his napkin, having barely taken a bite of Debbie's too-dry chicken, and launches into an explanation.


	5. Chapter Four

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**Chapter Four**

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"My mom got pregnant when I was six," Justin begins, because that's where the story really starts. "They found out that she would be having a girl, and they were thrilled, because that's who they really wanted to begin with." He scans the table for signs of pity, and seeing none, sighs and returns to his story. "So my dad went all out, decorating a room for her, taking all my old toys and games and getting them ready for her, all that stuff. And my mom didn't leave her bed for the entire pregnancy except for… you know, the necessities."

"And then," he continues, "when she – Molly – was born, she had horrible birth defects. I mean discoloring, _fur_, and two fingers molded together. Nobody could figure out what went wrong, but the doctors said it was likely that she would die. And… she did. Within a month."

Emmett's eyes are wide as saucers. Brian looks mildly regretful that he asked for this story.

"So my dad," Justin continues, "started drinking. And after a few weeks of that, he was a completely different person. He would yell and curse and throw things. Got really violent. He talked about killing me and my mom, but mostly me. Said it was my fault, that everything else that happened during Mom's pregnancy was the same as when I was born except for the older sibling. Me. That Molly died because of me. And one day, Mom got home from work and saw Dad strangling me."

Justin's voice is still a deadpan. He stops for a moment, hoping that he will be asked to stop talking. He looks especially carefully at Brian, whose face betrays no emotion, but whose hands squeeze the side of the table. Brian's knuckles are whitening.

"So Mom tried to ignore it for a few days. Just let him hit me and stuff, figuring it would only get worse if she tried to talk to him about it. But then… one day, he broke my leg. Almost killed me. And that's when they put me in foster care."

The end. It is unspoken, but everybody knows that the story has come to a close. Or has it? Justin is clearly not going to say anything more, but of course there's more to the tale.

The tension is thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

Though the food has barely been touched, Debbie pushes her chair back and stands up. "Who wants dessert?" she asks.

And dessert is served.

Only Brian knows that there is more to the story than Justin has said. He eyes the boy skeptically.

"What?" Justin asks, nervous of the almost predatorial look in the man's eyes.

Brian looks away. "Nothing," he says.

---

After the meal ends, goodbyes are exchanged as though these people would never see one another again.

Gus totters over to Justin. "Miss you," he says, and Justin just stands there stroking the little boy's hair until Melanie and Lindsay come over to collect him.

"'Bye, Justin," Melanie says. "We'll take you up on your offer to babysit – at least, Hunter will make sure we do," she teases.

Lindsay kisses the boy's cheek. "Enjoy yourself," she tells him. "Here's our number, in case you need anything." She presses a piece of paper into the boy's hand. Justin just looks at her, his eyes wide, and accepts the paper.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

Next to come over to him are Debbie and Horvath. "'Bye, kid," Debbie says, ruffling Justin's hair. "You need _anything_, just come see me at the Liberty Diner on Liberty. Okay?"

Justin nods, but he knows he will never take her up on her offer, and maybe she does too.

When Debbie and Horvath leave, Ted and Blake walk by, but their lips are attached to one another's, so it's not like they say anything. And then Emmett approaches Justin.

"Hey, sweetie," he says, laying a hand on Justin's shoulder. "I'm gonna go now, and I just want you to know, if you ever need to talk, you can call me. I know you think you're never going to call me, and maybe you won't, but I want you to know it's an option. 'Kay?"

Just like with Debbie, Justin convinces himself that he never will do so. But he nods. "Okay."

And finally, Callie bids farewell to Hunter and brushes past Justin on her way out. Then, the only people left are Ben, Michael, Hunter, Justin… and Brian.

"Well, I'm off," Brian says loudly, gathering his things from the counter. "See you tomorrow, Mikey. Breakfast as usual?" At Michael's nod, Brian opens the front door. "'Bye, professor. Kiddies."

And he's gone.

Justin looks around the house. It's quiet now. He feels alone.

"Well, I guess we should show you your new room," Ben tells Justin, and hoists the boy's plastic bag of belongings into his arms. "This is really light," he remarks. "What do you have in here?"

The boy shrugs. "Clothes," he says. "And – and a sketchpad." He's nervous, shaking a little, like he's scared they're going to take it away from him.

Ben, to his credit, notices Justin's nervousness, and assuages the boy's fears. "Don't worry," he says. "You can keep that – we're not going to take it away from you."

Justin looks visibly relieved, but a hint of distrust still lurks in the corners of his eyes.

Nobody sees it, or if they do, nobody acknowledges it.

When Ben, Justin, Michael and Hunter arrive at the door to Hunter's room, Michael turns to his adoptive son and demands, "Did you clean up?"

Hunter smirks. "Yes, _Dad_," he sneers.

Ben opens the door.

The first thing Justin can think is that it's big. He knows it's not huge, as bedrooms go, but he's never had a room this big. Mostly he had closets or laundry rooms or doghouses to sleep in, but when he did have an actual bedroom – always one he would share with other kids – it was never this big.

And it's so _personalized_. Other rooms have been all white walls, bleak gray carpet or hardwood floors, the very personification of blankness. But this room has photographs – of Hunter and Ben and Michael, of Brian, of Lindsay and Melanie and Gus and his little sister, of Debbie and Horvath and Emmett and Blake and Ted.

And magazine posters of celebrities, male _and _female.

And Justin can't not notice the stack of porn underneath one of the beds, the unmade one.

On the other side of the room… it's blank. Blank_er_. The walls aren't painted the same vibrant scarlet as the other half of the room is. The bed has blue sheets and a blue comforter, but it says nothing about the person who sleeps in that bed. One could never tell if that person's actual favorite color was blue or not.

It suddenly occurs to Justin that this is _his _room.

His bed. His blue sheets and comforter and white walls.

His pillow.

He can't remember ever having a pillow like that before, all fluffed and comfortable and soft. He can't remember having _anything _like this before.

"This is my room?" he asks nervously.

Ben and Michael and Hunter all kind of nod, like they want him to figure it out himself and aren't quite sure whether Justin's question was meant to be answered or not.

"Okay."

And without another word, Justin strips down to his underwear and slips into bed. Michael, Ben, and Hunter look on in silence, and then Hunter follows suit.

Ben flicks off the lights.

"'Night, boys," Michael says.

"'Night," Ben repeats.

Hunter and Justin echo the sentiment as well, and before anything else can be said or done, Justin is fast asleep.


	6. Chapter Five

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**Chapter Five**

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Justin is awoken by the sound of the ringing phone.

Ben grabs it before a full ring is complete, as though aware of the fact that both boys are – _were _– sleeping a mere doorway away. "Hello?" he asks, his voice hushed. But Justin has had practice listening in on conversations, and so he hears every word. "Oh, hello," Ben says, sounding very worried and just a tiny bit louder.

Hunter, without moving his body, rolls his neck and head to face Justin and the door. Justin hears the squeak of the bed and turns around. "Morning," the boys mumble in unison, in that raspy half-whisper of the early morning.

Realizing that they spoke at the same time, Hunter laughs. Justin doesn't notice what's funny, and merely strains his ears to hear more of Ben's conversation.

There is an audible gasp. "Oh," Ben continues. "That's terrible… Oh my god, yes, of course, we'll be there. Yes, I'll pass on the message. Okay. Thank you. We'll be there soon. 'Bye."

Justin and Hunter hear the phone being set back down in its cradle, and then hear a hiss from Ben: "Shit!"

Justin cringes. He's heard that before in any number of past foster homes, and it never led to anything good. But Hunter, astute as he is, picks up on Justin's nerves, and hastily assures the other boy, "He never loses his temper. Brian calls him Zen Ben."

The blonde breathes a sigh of relief, but not because of hearing that Ben does not lose his temper. It is the mere mention of Brian that calms him down. Hunter knows this, and says, "Hey, when I first got inducted into this little family, I had a crush on Brian too. It'll pass."

Justin's eyes go wide as saucers. "Oh – no, I don't – oh, my god, I don't – oh – "

Hunter rolls his eyes. "I've heard that before," he sneers. "Listen to me." He slithers a skinny arm from his bed to Justin's and lays his hand on his foster brother's knee. "Brian does one-night-stands, and that's it. Boy like you's bound to be a virgin." When Justin does not respond, Hunter continues, "You don't want him. He's had me, and I can tell you, he's the best fuck in the world. But you don't want him yet."

"What do you know?" Justin mutters.

Despite the rhetorical nature of the question, Hunter responds anyway. He swings his legs off the side of the bed and leans over to Justin. "You're fifteen. I'm fifteen. We share common desires. Sex seems like the most important thing in the world to you right now. And sometimes it is." He laughs. "But the thing to remember is that after you come, you see things in perspective."

"Who told you that? Ben? Michael?"

Hunter's eyes flash. "What if I told you it was Brian?"

"Bet it wasn't."

"Fuck all you know," Hunter snipes back.

The door swings open, and Ben enters, fresh out of the shower and looking very disheveled. "Hunter – Justin – " he gasps out. "Family emergency. Get dressed – fast." With that, he disappears from the doorway.

Alarmed, Hunter jumps out of bed and begins pulling on shoes and socks over his boxers, then yanks on a shirt. Once the shirt has been thrown over his head, Hunter spots Justin sitting frozen on his bed. Hunter tosses him a pair of light jeans. "Get dressed!" he yells.

Slowly, Justin gets to his feet and pulls the jeans on over his waist. They hang loose on his hips, which, considering the fact that the jeans belong to the underweight Hunter, is truly saying something. Hunter takes notice of this, and pulls Justin toward him by the waistband. "How much do you weigh?" he demands.

"Not enough," Justin mutters.

"A very unfaglike answer," Hunter retorts. "But I'll take it."

Justin wonders if it might be possible for him to have found a friend in this new foster brother of his. He quickly tries to discard the thought, not wanting to get his hopes up… but it's too late. Already his eyes are wide and childlike, and he looks up at Hunter, arms swinging at his sides.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" Justin asks quietly.

Hunter tosses a brown tee-shirt to the other boy. Justin catches it and tugs it over his head, then looks at his roommate. "How do I look?" he asks nervously, knowing how ridiculous he must look in such oversized clothing.

"Like shit," Hunter replies honestly. Then he shrugs. "Brothers are supposed to say stuff like that. Especially when it's true. Even when it isn't."

Justin grins. It feels great to have someone like that, but he can't help but feel… skeptical. Worried. Like if he puts his trust in Hunter… something could go wrong.

That's when the door slams open again, and Ben and Michael reappear in the doorway. "My mom's in the hospital," Michael gasps out, grabbing Hunter's wrist and propelling him forward. Justin follows, his steps uncomfortably fast. "She fell down the steps," Michael continues as the four of them reach the front door and head out. "May have broken her back. We have to drop you kids off at Brian's – it's on the way, and Ma can't have too many visitors."

"But I wanna see Deb," Hunter whines.

As they reach the car and Ben unlocks the door, he fixes Hunter with a glare.

"I _wanna_," Hunter continues. "Justin, don't you want to see her? If she's in the hospital?"

Justin's voice is quiet, nearly silent. "It's not my place to say," he murmurs. "It's up to your dads."

"Our dads," Hunter chides him.

An unsure expression flicks across the blonde's face. "Okay," he says.

With a skid, the car pulls up outside Brian's building. Hunter slides out first, followed by Justin, and they slam the door. Michael and Ben speed away.

Hunter plasters on an expression of fake delight. "You ready to spend some quality time at Uncle Brian's house?"


	7. Chapter Six

---

**Chapter Six**

---

Hunter stands in front of Justin when they reach the door, and as such, when Brian buzzes them up, he is of the opinion that Hunter is his only guest. But once the boys make their way up the rickety elevator and into Brian's doorway, it becomes clear that that is not the case.

"Okay," Brian says, standing there in a black wifebeater and jeans. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Deb's in the hospital," Hunter explains, pushing past Brian to enter the loft. Justin follows, looking nervous, and takes the time to wipe his feet before entering. As Hunter flops down on the couch, Justin takes off his shoes and places them carefully beside the door. It is then that Hunter elaborates, "She hurt her back."

Brian ignores Justin altogether. "So you're here," he says, "because Ben and Mikey didn't want you to have to see her all injured?"

"No," Hunter sneers. "We're here because she can't have too many visitors, and god knows she wouldn't want to see _you_."

It is clear to both of them that this is completely irrelevant, but it lingers in Brian's mind that maybe it's true. He casts the thought away, instead directing his attention toward Justin, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Why are you on the floor?" Brian asks, keeping harshness out of his voice because he knows that the kid doesn't need that. Doesn't deserve that. Can't deal with that.

But thinking back to his own childhood, it becomes clear to Brian that there is really no explanation other than the fact that sitting on the floor is what Justin has been conditioned to do. So, aware that Hunter is gazing at him in bewilderment, Brian swiftly crosses the room and extends a hand to a petrified-looking Justin. "Come on," Brian says, as though his intents were not obvious. "I'll help you up."

Nervously, Justin takes Brian's hand and gets to his feet. "Um," he says quietly, almost imperceptibly. "Thanks."

Hunter chokes back laughter.

"So," Brian says loudly, looking at his watch. Eleven-oh-two. Great. "You guys want breakfast, or what? If we go to the diner, we won't have to see Debbie."

Justin quietly interjects, "I know how to cook, if you want me to. For breakfast, I can make eggs, french toast, pancakes… pretty much anything. Or bacon or sausage or… anything, really." He blushes and grins sheepishly. "Your dish is my command."

Brian and Hunter gape at him.

"Uh, yeah," Brian says slowly after a moment's pause. "Let's go to the diner, kiddos."

Hunter looks around and then proposes, "What if we order in? I mean, not from the diner. Like, from a pizza place or something."

Brian fixes him with an evil stare. "I don't eat pizza," he growls, alarming Justin. "And even if I did, I wouldn't eat it at eleven in the morning."

The younger boy whimpers. "But I _want _it," he whines.

Fully aware that there must be some sort of ulterior motive in the boy's request, Brian grumbles. "Fine," he drawls. "Justin – how do you like your pizza?"

"I haven't had it," Justin replies softly.

Hunter and Brian's eyes bulge.

"You've never had _pizza_?" Brian demands. "What the _fuck_?"

Justin recoils. "Uh… sorry," he mumbles.

Equally shocked, Hunter demands, "Then what do you _eat_?"

Justin takes the question seriously, and appears to be thinking. "Um, my last foster home gave me cereal sometimes, but no milk 'cause it's expensive, and sometimes I would share with A-A-Andy."

"Andy?" Hunter echoes.

But Brian knows what he means. "The dog, right?" he asks, dreading the answer but predicting it one hundred percent.

Hunter's been in shitty places in life before, but never _that_.

"Um," says Justin. "Yeah."

"That's fucking it, I'm ordering a pizza," Brian declares, and extends his hand to Hunter for his cell phone. The boy draws his phone out of his pants pocket and hands it to Brian, and when Brian snatches it away and crosses the room to order the pie, Justin looks suddenly nervous.

At Hunter's inquisitive look, Justin explains hastily, "I'm allergic to a lot of stuff, so if I get some sort of allergic reaction and break out in hives and my tongue swells up and I look like I'm suffocating, it's from whatever's on the pizza, and you can just, you know, let me sit there, 'cause it goes away after awhile, okay? Just don't try to give me water, 'cause that just makes it worse."

Hunter gapes.

"Um, yeah, medical attention, got it," Hunter says smugly. "Now get off your ass and let me give you a tour." He gets to his feet, then waits as Justin slowly rises. "Okay. Here's the kitchen. State-of-the-art appliances and all that jazz." As Justin surveys the gorgeous top-of-the-line culinary equipment, Hunter takes the other boy's wrist and begins dragging him in the other direction. "Front door," he narrates. "Security system. Forget to set it and you're fucked."

Justin nods, but can't imagine an occasion on which it would be left up to _him _to set the alarm. He says at much, and Hunter just shrugs.

"Now, over here's the main living area. Beuatiful Italian leather furniture, whatever. Costs millions of dollars, prob'ly." He smirks. "Spill something on the couch, I dare you."

As Hunter and Justin walk past Brian's bed area, Hunter lowers his voice to accommodate Brian's need for silence while on the phone. "This is his bed. Chances are you'll be seeing some of it in the near future, if you play your cards right."

Justin blushes a rather bizarre shade of pink.

"And… the bathroom," Hunter concludes. "Great place for sex if you ask me. The shower's awesome."

"Do you think about anything besides sex?" Justin asks in amazement, looking at the other boy like he is some sort of alien species that he has never seen before.

Hunter shrugs. "It varies. I used to be a hustler, you know. Sleeping on the streets or with some random guy in the back of his truck or something like that. But it's not just me, it's the whole gay culture. No – that's not fair, really, 'cause I'm sure heteros have clubs too. Fuck, I've been to them. It's just that with us it's a little _more _about sex. It's not the whole gay community, but it's a damn big part of it."

Justin nods. "Nice speech," he applauds.

At that, Brian closes Hunter's phone and approaches the two boys. "Hey," he says in the closest tone to brightness that he can possibly muster. "I got us the works. Two huge pies with pretty much everything. I figure if you can't gorge yourself to celebrate a new member of the family, what _can _you do?"

There is an expression on Hunter's face like he's fighting to keep from laughing. "Brian," he says seriously, "the last time I saw you eat more than a salad at one time was, oh, let me think… _two Christmases ago_."

"Oh, yeah," Brian grins, remembering. "That time we all went to your house – "

" – and Ben was threatening to force-feed us tofurkey," Hunter interrupts, cackling. To Justin, he explains, "Ben's a vegetarian, a Buddhist, and pretty much everything else that could possibly – "

He is interrupted by a soft beeping sound from inside his jeans. Glancing at his beeper, he winces and turns to Brian. The man nods and walks over to the kitchen, where he retrieves a bottle of pills and a glass of ice water.

Hunter draws out several differently-colored pills – Justin is familiar with the tactic of storing different types of pills all in the same bottle, to save space – and takes them, followed by a long sip of water.

At Justin's confused, I'm-not-going-to-ask-but-I'd-really-like-to-know look, Hunter explains, "I have HIV."

Justin nods, not unsympathetically, and replies, "So do I."


	8. Chapter Seven

---

**Chapter Seven**

---

It is a rule of etiquitte – not gay etiquitte, but etiquitte in general – that one does not ask another individual how he or she acquired a deadly disease. To be fair, however, Hunter _does _have it too, so when he asks, "How?", it's not that he's being intrusive. Well, he is being intrusive… but not in an unjustified manner.

"Do I have to answer?" Justin asks nervously, looking from Hunter to Brian, the latter of whose perfect hazel eyes display something almost akin to concern. Justin's hands tremble.

Before Hunter can plead to hear more details, he sees Brian slowly shaking his head. Knowing that this means that he should stop talking immediately, Hunter clamps his jaw shut. "No," Brian responds, and is interrupted by the arrival of the pizza deliveryman at the door.

Justin's reaction is startling. Upon hearing the _buzzzzz_, he springs up and promptly bolts toward the back of the loft like a deer in the headlights. Then he freezes, as though suddenly aware of his surroundings, and slowly turns to see Brian and Hunter gaping at him. He flushes and quietly crosses back over to them. "Um," he whispers. _Great. How the hell am I supposed to explain this one? _

Brian sighs and shoves a handful of bills into Hunter's hands. "Get the door," he orders, and gestures to Justin. "C'mere," he says, leading the boy into his bedroom.

While Hunter goes to pay for the food, Brian and Justin ascend the stairs to Brian's bed, where Justin then stands awkwardly as Brian slides the panels shut, shutting them off from Hunter and the deliveryman.

"So," says Brian loudly, flopping down onto his bed. "What do you think of our little family so far?"

Justin is nervous; that much is obvious. "Um… they're nice," he says carefully. "I like Hunter. He's funny."

Brian snorts. "Yeah, he's a real barrel of laughs, all right. How 'bout Michael and Ben?"

"They're, um, they're very… generous," Justin stammers. "And accepting."

The older man smirks. He knows exactly what's going on. "You don't see how they can just welcome you into their house, do you? Into their life?"

Justin sighs, like he's just found out that someone knows what he's going through. And that's what's happening. "Yeah," he says eagerly. "It's like… I haven't _done _anything, you know? And all of a sudden they show up at the foster home and just _accept _me? They don't even know me."

Brian is tempted not to drop a sarcastic remark about them not being able to _get _to know him, but restrains himself. Instead, he says, "Maybe it's the other foster homes that have been doing something wrong by _not _accepting you. By making you a foster kid, we're saying welcome to the family. Jump right in."

"But…"

"But nothing. I know what they did to you in those other places. They beat you, right? And they raped you?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Well, let me tell you one thing. You're not getting that here. Don't expect it. Don't be scared it's going to get dished out to you, because it's _not_. You're getting a loving family here. Granny Deb and your two dads and three uncles and two aunts and one brother and one niece and one nephew – oh, and Grandpa Carl. Horvath. Whatever. We're going to treat you like how we treat Hunter, okay? Like a kid. Who's growing up. Who's our responsibility. I've had my share of experience with shitty parents, and if you think you're going to get any of that, well, you're wrong. Not while I'm around. You got that?"

Justin steps back. He doesn't understand what Brian is saying. Strong, clearly a sexual being, and obviously gay, why isn't Brian launching onto Justin, taking advantage of him? Why is he standing there talking to him when he could be dishing out the abuse Justin is so used to?

It doesn't occur to him to listen to Brian's words. When you live in a world of lies, words are the _last _thing you believe. Better to judge them by their actions – by their _lives_.

"I _said_, do you understand?" Brian repeats. His eyes are cloudy, and all Justin sees in them – whether it's there or not – is lust.

And then he thinks he gets it.

"You want me all to yourself?" Justin tries tentatively, trying to make his voice a sexy murmur and failing miserably.

Brian raises two fingers to his temple, massages it for a moment, and sharply reaches out to snap the panels surrounding the platform of his bed back into place. They see Hunter standing there, munching contentedly on a slice of pizza.

"Hey, guys," Hunter says, his mouth full of cheese and crust and sauce. "You want?"

Justin glances at Brian, waiting for permission. When the brunette nods curtly, understanding Justin's request, the younger boy crosses the room, opening several cabinets at random before finding the plates, and sits down beside Hunter at the table. He scoops a slice of pizza onto his plate.

Hunter and Brian watch, intrigued by the dramatic tension surrounding Justin's first piece of pizza… ever.

Justin takes a bite, slowly chewing, and sits back in his seat.

"Well?" Hunter asks excitedly.

Justin's eyes flash. "Definitely an acquired taste, like coffee," he says, and Hunter has no earthly idea what he means by that, because coffee, in his opinion, is disgusting, while pizza is… _pizza_. "But it's good."

Brian gapes. "How old are you?" he murmurs disgustedly, and grabs a plate, tears a slice of pizza out of the pie, and takes a huge bite. "Be a kid, goddamnit."

The blonde laughs, and tentatively reaches for Hunter's soda. "Go right ahead," his foster brother says, and Justin takes a sip.

Brian snorts.

"What?" Justin asks hesitantly.

His guardian, if only for the moment, replies, "You put your mouth around that bottle like you're sucking cock."

"Uh," Justin interjects, though he really has no idea what to say. "Okay."

Hunter grins. "From Brian? That's the highest compliment you can get. Basically means he wants your mouth on his dick."

It's taking a risk, but Justin just laughs, assuming that his foster brother is joking. Hunter laughs with him, and before they know it, they're just three gay guys sitting at a table in a Pittsburgh loft, eating pizza and drinking diet soda and not having a clue what they're laughing about.


	9. Chapter Eight

---

**Chapter Eight**

---

After a movie marathon and total self-indulgement on pizza, Hunter, Brian, and Justin finally tear themselves away from guilty pleasures. Well, that's not entirely true, since what's brought out next is pot. But the atmosphere changes from that of a lazy bingeing session to a casual get-together between friends.

"Don't tell your dads," Brian warns the boys, rolling a joint. Justin looks on in awe, admiring the man's dexterous fingers. Seeing this, Hunter snorts. But astute as ever, Brian catches sight of both boys' expressions and drawls to Hunter, "Hey, you drooled over me once, too."

"A dark, dark time for me," Hunter retorts, and draws a lighter out of his pocket. "Here." He hands it to Brian, who then lights the joint and takes a long drag from it. When he's done breathing out the smoke, Brian passes it to Hunter, who is quicker about it, quicker and rougher and much less refined. Brian makes smoking look like a skill; Hunter makes it look like a race: _Who can get high faster?_

When the joint is placed in Justin's hand, he looks at it for a moment, not quite aware of what to do with it. He's seen people smoking pot before, and morally, he has no problems with it. He does, however, object to the way people seem to lose their inhibitions after smoking it. He's afraid of what he could reveal. Still, a joint is a joint, and Brian _wants _him to smoke it, so he can't exactly say no. He takes a long drag, like he's slurping the last drops of a smoothie, and holds it in his hand for a few moments before passing it back to Brian.

After a few rounds of this, Brian finally fulfills Justin's greatest fear of the moment, and begins asking questions. "So, Justin," he says lazily, voice thick with the smoke. "What's your last name?"

"Doe," Justin replies smartly. "I'm J. Doe." He avoids the question entirely – his last name, the one used by his biological parents, is something he's never repeated. Not to the foster home, not to anyone. Not that he hasn't been asked. His best answer is "I don't remember." And quite honestly, at this point, he wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. If after so many years, it turns out that what he does remember from his childhood is incorrect.

Brian rolls his eyes. "Don't give me that bullshit. Everyone knows their name. Although I do believe you've never told a soul what it is."

"So why should I tell you?" Justin asks sharply. There are a few obvious answers – that his dick stands straight up for Brian; that he wants more than anything to get into Brian's pants; that he is eyeing the painting of the naked man with no small amount of distaste, thinking of what Brian might look like in the same pose.

It seems Brian is thinking along the same lines, because at this point, his answer is, "Because I have something you want."

Oh, and now, here's where it gets interesting. Justin sits up straighter, no pun intended, and looks Brian in the eye. "And what's that?"

Smugly, Brian blows out some smoke and, passing the joint to Hunter, replies, "My cock."

"You think I'd tell you my deepest, darkest secret for a fuck?" Justin asks. He knows how to bargain. He's been doing it all his life. He wants something, and if it's being offered to him, he may as well try to get a little more out of it.

Hunter coughs, and, handing Justin the joint, points out, "It's a very good fuck."

Justin snorts. "I'm sure it is," he says, taking an elegant drag on the joint. "However, I don't think one will quite do it for me."

"I _don't _fuck people twice," Brian informs him.

"And _I_," says Justin brightly, "don't go around revealing my secrets for _sex_."

"Why not?" Hunter asks. "The rest of us do."

Brian rolls his eyes. "I'm trying to do you a favor, little boy," he tells Justin smoothly, snatching the joint from Justin and tucking it at the side of his mouth. With expert practice, he speaks around it, his voice sounding unruffled. With one's eyes closed, one could never tell that there is something in Brian's mouth. "If I find out your last name, I'll know who your parents are."

"And?" Justin asks dryly.

"_And_," Brian continues, stretching out the word for both dramatic tension and the the chance to think of a really good point, "that way we can go after them in a courtroom. Melanie's a lawyer."

Justin shakes his head. "No."

As Brian hands off the joint to Hunter, he whines, clearly inebriated by the marijuana, "But _why_?"

"Because I'm done with them. I don't care about them anymore."

"I'm sure you don't," says Brian solemnly, "but some of us want to take action when they see kids being abused."

Justin's voice softens. "I'm not being abused anymore," he says, and accepts the joint from Hunter, but does not smoke it.

"Emotional and mental abuse lasts forever," Brian retorts.

Hunter is nodding in complete agreement, but it may just be the pot.

Shaking his head, Justin props his chin up on his hands, offering Brian the joint, which he did not smoke this round. Brian takes it. "I just don't... I mean, they're my parents, you know? I hardly even remember them." But that is a lie, and Brian knows it. So does Justin, for that matter. Justin remembers them in phases – before Molly's birth, in the week before she died, and just after, when his father became abusive. He remembers his father's smile in three degrees: warm, nonexistant, and maniacal.

Brian grunts. "I remember _my _parents."

"You knew them for eighteen years," Justin reminds him.

Brian shrugs. "I knew them for half my life. You knew yours for half your life."

Hunter whistles. "Good math," he remarks. Brian and Justin flatly ignore him.

"The intention of the foster care system," Justin says, twisting his fingers around each other as he itches to sketch something, "is to reassign families. To make kids recognize new people as their parents, and forget the 'monsters' that tortured them with emotional, physical, mental – uh – well, various types of abuse."

Brian nods. "I agree, but wouldn't that be much easier and healthier with closure?" he shoots back, sucking on the joint and exhaling deeply.

"In some cases, yes," Justin replies. "But in my case, I happen to know that my father was placed in an inpatient unit for several months immediately after I was placed in the foster care system. As for my mother, it was my impression that she immediately divorced Dad and moved in with her parents."

"You see," Brian interrupts, with the tone of someone who has had a brilliant idea, "You're still calling them Mom and Dad, mother and father. You can't have picked new people as your parents."

Justin shakes his head. He doesn't see how Brian can't understand, but then again, it itches at him that maybe Brian does understand, and is disinclined to admit it. "At this point, Michael and Ben aren't prominent enough in my life or well-known enough to me for them to be considered my parents just yet. However, it is my full intention that at one point, I will be able to consider them my family... and you as well."

But that stings him, because Justin doesn't want to consider Brian his family. He wants to consider Brian his boyfriend.

He takes a sharp, angry drag on the joint and exhales like there is no tomorrow.

Why does life have to be this complicated?


End file.
